


Paralyzed

by RoseByAnyOtherName17



Series: 30 Day Writing Challenge (Derek/Stiles) [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-compliant Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:18:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7696186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseByAnyOtherName17/pseuds/RoseByAnyOtherName17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the nogitsune, Stiles withdrew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paralyzed

After the nogitsune, Stiles withdrew into himself in a way that no one could bring him out of, not Scott, not even Lydia. “It wasn’t your fault,” Scott said softly, a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. Lydia said nothing, just wrapped herself around him and stroked a hand through his hair. Stiles didn’t respond to either. He didn’t lean in and he didn’t pull away. It was like he’d been out of control of his own body for so long that he’d forgotten how to use it. 

When Derek crawled into Stiles’ room through his window, despite the sheriff having told him he’s allowed to use the front door like Stiles’ other friends, Stiles didn’t even look up. Derek broke the silence first. “What’re you up to?”

“Homework, mostly,” Stiles answered mechanically, still looking at the computer screen. Occasionally he typed something, or clicked to a new page, but he seemed to be moving on autopilot. “Everything okay?” he said after a few more minutes of Derek standing by the window just watching.

“Everything besides you, it seems.” 

Stiles went completely still, fingers hovering over the keyboard. He couldn’t stop the way they slowly curled into fists, and he dropped his gaze to his knees. “I’m fine.”

“Who’re you trying to convince?” Derek sounded a lot closer than before, but Stiles still didn’t turn around. He didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes, the same pity that was in everyone else’s when the looked at him. 

Stiles sighed. “What’re you doing here, Derek?”

“You haven’t been to the loft in awhile,” Derek said. “I wanted to check up on you. Maybe invite you over Friday night. The pack insisted on having a movie night and apparently my place has the most space. Isaac hooked up a TV yesterday.”

“I know,” Stiles said, spinning in his chair so that he could reach for his backpack by the bed. “He told me.”

“So you’re coming?”

“No.”

Derek grabbed the hand that held the strap of Stiles’ backpack. “Why not?”

“I’ve got stuff to do, okay?”

“You’re lying.” Derek pulled on Stiles’ hand until he got to his feet, grabbing his shoulder when he swayed a little. “Jesus Stiles, when’s the last time you slept?”

“I got a couple hours last night, I think.”

“You think?”

“Every time I close my eyes, I see Allison,” Stiles whispered, the carefully constructed blankness on his face crumbling. “Sometimes it’s just her body, sometimes it’s how she was before everything with the Nemeton happened.” He covered his face with his hands, scrubbing furiously at his eyes. “Most people, when they looked at me, they just saw Scott’s dorky best friend who wasn’t good for much more than researching or getting in the way. Even you. Allison was in love with Scott, but she saw me as separate from him. She came over one night about a month after they got together, when me and Scott were hanging out, with stupid girly movies that guys are supposed to hate, you know? She told Scott to get out, that as his girlfriend and his best friend, it was our responsibility to get to know each other.” 

Stiles sat on the end of his bed, still not meeting Derek’s eyes. “She brought my favorite candy and we watched ‘Dirty Dancing,’ and the whole time we just talked about everything, from Scott to my massive crush on Lydia. When Dad got home he pulled out some old coloring books that weren’t filled in all the way, and she got crazy excited, like it was a puppy or something.” He looked up at Derek. “Most of the time, when I dream about her, it’s how concentrated she was coloring this little unicorn and tiger page. She made the tiger blue. It’s like, later, I figured out that she was that kind of person, the kind that focused on everything like that, but at that moment I thought she was just really into coloring.”

“I didn’t know you knew her so well,” Derek said quietly.

“She was one of my best friends,” Stiles admitted. “And I killed her.”

“Just because your body killed her doesn’t mean you did,” Derek said, grasping his shoulder. “It wasn’t you.”

“I could see it happening.” Stiles buried his face in his hands again. “I saw everything, and I was trying so hard to stop, and I just couldn’t make my limbs stop moving. Do you know what that’s like? To be so aware of everything and not have the control to make it stop?”

Derek moved back on the bed, pulling Stiles with him, until they were lying on their sides facing each other. Stiles chanced a look into Derek’s face, and there wasn’t any pity. Just sadness. “I know what it’s like to feel responsible for something that you didn’t actually do,” he murmured. “To feel like your body’s been used against you. It never stops feeling like your fault, but it isn’t. Sometimes you just need someone else to remind you of that.”

Stiles closed his eyes. “Why are you here, Derek?” His voice didn’t hold any of the hostility it did before, just exhaustion.

“Because, contrary to popular belief, I don’t hate you.” Stiles felt a reluctant smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “And because Scott and Lydia are beyond worried about you. They don’t blame you. They just want you to see that.”

Stiles felt a hand run over his neck to cup his head, but he didn’t open his eyes. “I’ll come on Friday,” he mumbled into his pillow, letting himself fall asleep with Derek’s thumb rubbing circles over his cheek.


End file.
